


mens sāna in corpore sānō

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [59]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Illnesses, M/M, Master/Slave, Sick Character, Sickfic, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: Ven has a fever and needs looking after.(Probably late spring or early summer in 2771auc - our year 2018 -  the year after the series first began.)





	mens sāna in corpore sānō

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ItStartedWithPotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItStartedWithPotter/gifts).

> This might not be quite what you asked for, Vitzy, but I hope it fills a spot! Get well soon!
> 
> (Please note: I started writing this in the past tense before going through to correct to the present tense for story-telling purposes. If I missed something, please let me know so I can correct it!)

There is something very special about settling down for the night with a pretty boy who’s wearing nothing at all except the marks of ownership you had placed on his body. Ven makes a very pretty bedwarmer indeed, and is so responsive to everything, pleasurable or painful - or both. He has the cutest confused expressions when his body grows aroused at something that he doesn’t like, or says he doesn’t like.

Drusus switches off the bedside light, pulling Ven into his arms and settles down for the night.

He isn’t sure how long he’s slept when he becomes aware of two things: his pet is struggling in his arms, weakly, and he is drenched in sweat. He reaches over to turn the light back on, bringing it up to the dimmest glow that would let him see. 

Ven is still asleep, but tossing and turning, and moaning quietly in a way that Drusus doesn’t like. He is hot to the touch, feverish, sweating profusely.

Drusus hits the intercom button for the downstairs slave dormitory, and Willow appears in the doorway a few moments later, blinking blearily, his tunic crumpled as though he’d simply grabbed yesterday’s clothing. 

"Ven is not well," Drusus says briefly. "I need a bed for him in the sick-room, and someone to remake my bed. Also, a cool cloth, and a glass of water and some painkillers to be upstairs, too."

"Yes, Master." Willow vanishes on his errand and Drusus turns to his phone, switching it on to send a brief message before he returns his attention to his slave and carefully removes the harness and plug from him, setting them aside to be dealt with later.

"You’re a silly boy, pet. Where did you pick this up, I wonder?" he says fondly as he turns to Ven’s cot in the corner of the room (he rarely sleeps in it, but he needs his own bed) and strips the soft green blanket from it, draping it over Ven before lifting the slave up.

There is something to be said for having a teen in your bed, Drusus thinks, though he isn’t about to trade Ven for a younger slave. Ven isn’t light, though he isn’t too heavy to be carried or manhandled - he’s slender, and shorter than Drusus, and both of those enable Drusus to carry him out of the room, Ven’s head tucked into his neck as he mutters quietly, wild things about fire and floods and other things Drusus can’t make out. 

Into the slave quarters through the swing door, and up the stairs, along the landing - lit by the moon shining through the skylight - and into the sick-bay. There are two cots in here, one with the sheets and blankets turned down already. Drusus lays Ven down, pulling his green blanket away before tucking him in, the white pillow stark under Ven’s sweat-soaked dark hair.

Willow comes in, on silent bare feet, setting a glass of water and box of painkillers on the bedside table. He steps back and turns to a cupboard for a flannel, which he runs under the tap, squeezing the excess water out before folding it and offering it to his master, who presses it to Ven’s forehead. Ven mutters something unintelligible but stills, sighing, as the cool damp cloth eases some of his discomfort.

"I don’t have time for this, Ven," Drusus tells him, pulling up a chair and sitting down. He looks up at Willow who is still hovering, concerned but fighting back a yawn.

"Someone is to sit with him all the time, and let me know when he wakes up," he says.

"Yes, Master. Shall I…?"

"No. You can fetch my phone, charger, and watch, though."

"Yes, Master."

* * *

Ven feels as though he’s swimming in lava, and somehow trying to fight off an octopus at the same time. Why there should be an octopus in a lava lake, he doesn’t know, but there are octopi in the Mare Nostrum - he’s seen them. This one’s a big one, though.

And then he’s lying on a beach, it’s cool and clear. There are voices talking but he doesn’t understand what they’re saying. 

When he wakes, it’s in a room and a bed he doesn’t recognise at first. It’s white, with one wall in a soothing green. There’s a medicus there - or at least, someone who’s not part of the household, who’s holding Ven’s wrist and looking at his watch as he counts. 

He looks around for his master, confused by what’s going on.

He feels wrung out, like an old dishrag, and his legs seem to be made of jelly, but he knows it’s not right that he’s lying in a bed while his master’s standing there. His panicked scrabbling is prevented by Moss, the wine-red tunic he’s wearing seemingly the only spot of colour in the room. 

He doesn’t have the strength to fight and sags back into the bed, bonelessly. If Moss is stopping him, that must be because Master told him to, which means that it’s all right for Ven to be in the bed while Master’s standing up. Thinking makes his head hurt and he closes his eyes. 

Someone’s talking again, to him, and he blinks his eyes open to find that Moss is holding a glass of water to his mouth. He drinks, and drops back to the pillow. Whatever Master’s talking to the doctor about isn’t anything Ven can understand, or change, or anything, and he lets the darkness come again.

And he’s back to drowning in that lava again, only this time he’s tied up as well and can’t get free and there’s a monster talking about how best to cook and eat him...

* * *

Drusus nods as Moss sets the glass back on the bedside table and dips the flannel back into the basin of water to sponge Ven’s forehead again, despite Ven’s weak attempts to bat his hands away.

"Keep him in bed. Make him drink every time he wakes, if he’s hungry, give him something to eat - something easy, that doesn’t take a lot of digesting. If anything changes, call me."

The medicus packs his bag and retreats downstairs, accompanied by Willow. Moss returns to sponging Ven’s forehead as their master comes to stand on the other side of the cot. Moss blinks in surprise as the master bends to kiss Ven’s forehead before straightening up and following the medicus and the steward out of the room.

"I’ve never known him to do that before," Moss tells his patient, dipping the cloth back in the basin of water and wringing it out again. "You get well soon, all right?"

Ven makes no answer save a mutter, and tosses his head on the pillow before returning to his struggle with the bedclothes. Moss has no idea what he is dreaming of, and gladly relinquishes his watch to Junio half an hour later.

Hours turned to days, and it’s maybe a week later when Ven finally blinks his eyes open to see Willow sitting by his bed.

"You’ve caused a lot of bother," Willow tells him, though he doesn’t sound upset. Rather the opposite, Ven thinks, tiredly, as his fellow slave slips his arm under Ven’s head and helps him to sip from a glass of water. It’s about the most refreshing thing Ven can remember drinking, but he's glad when the glass is empty and he can put his head back down on the pillow. His head feels sort of woolly but clear - he can think, but can’t concentrate for long. 

"Didn’t mean to," he says. His voice sounds rusty, as though he hasn’t spoken in a long while. "How long have I been… here?"

He’s finally worked out where ‘here’ is - the sickbay, upstairs in Master’s house. He closes his eyes, just listening to the muffled sounds of the house around him - someone, probably Davus, is in the workroom doing something. There are voices coming from the craft room, too. He prises his eyes back open for a moment. It looks as though it’s late afternoon, judging by the quality of the light. He can’t think, and lets his eyes drift shut again, shifting a little under the covers.

"A week, you’ve been very ill with a fever," Willow says.

Ill… that made sense. But a whole week? It can’t be, but he has to stop thinking about that because it makes his brain hurt.

Something doesn’t feel quite right. He shifts again, trying to work it out. He’s in bed, naked, which is normal - even though he isn’t in either his cot in the downstairs dormitory, or the one in his master’s room, or even in Master’s big bed. Naked in bed is perfectly normal. He feels _more_ naked than normal, somehow, though, and eventually realises he doesn’t have the leather harness round his prick and balls, and his bum is empty.

"Is Master very angry with me?" he asks tiredly, still with his eyes closed. That’s the only reason he can come up with for the complete nakedness below his waist. He fumbles a hand up to his neck, relieved to feel that he still has his collar on.

"Not at all," said a familiar voice, and he opens his eyes again, to see Master himself standing at the foot of the bed. That doesn’t seem right, and he blinks a couple of times before the wrongness clarifies itself in his head: he is in bed with Master standing there looking at him and not in the way that he would if this was one of his usual games.

He fumbles at the covers, suddenly afraid he’s in trouble for not getting up, or kneeling, or something.

"No, no, stay where you are," Master says. Something about the tone of his voice brings a lump to Ven’s throat and wetness to his eyes, and makes him feel like a small boy again.

"I’m sorry," he says in a small voice, feeling guilty, though he could not have said why, for the life of him.

Master comes to sit on the edge of the bed and Ven twists the covers between his fingers, ashamed of his weakness and the trouble he must have caused.

"You’re still my good boy, Ven. But you’ve been ill and you need to get well. So you’re going to stay here, or maybe go and sit in the garden if it's a nice day. But you’re not going to be doing anything as my secretary or concubīnus until you’re quite well again, all right?"

"All right, Master," Ven say in the same small voice, unutterably relieved at hearing his master’s reassurance, and has to fight back a yawn.

"All right, go to sleep, pet, I will see you tomorrow."

Ven physically can’t disobey the order, merely muttering something that might be, "Yes, Master," before burrowing down into the blankets and falling asleep.

Three days later, he wakes feeling much more like himself, but still as feeble as a newborn lamb. He thinks he can sit up now, and does so, wondering if he dares try to cross to the tiny en-suite latrine

"Breakfast in the garden today, it’s not too hot yet," a familiar voice says, and Ven turns his head to find Master has come in. There’s nobody else around.

"I need… I really need to… to take a piss, Master," he manages, twisting his hands in the covers, sure he’s tomato-red. This is a different sort of humiliation to the kind that Master inflicts on him during the Friday video sessions, but it feels much the same, though without the effect on his prick of the Friday sessions.

"Go on, then."

It seems like things are almost back to normal.

Ven gingerly pulls the covers back and swings around to put his feet on the floor.

Or maybe they aren’t, quite, because Master’s offering his own hand as Ven stands up, feeling stupidly wobbly, and finds himself clutching his master’s arm as if it were a lifeline.

There are grab bars in the latrine, and near the tiny sink, and Ven manages his business without having to have his master right there watching over his shoulder (though he’s sure Master wouldn’t mind doing that under somewhat different circumstances).

He holds onto the wall as he comes back into the sickbay, to find that Master’s got his blanket, the nice soft green one, and Ven can’t say anything before it’s wrapped around him and he’s picked up in Master’s arms. He can’t even put his arm round Master’s neck because he’s wrapped up much like you’d wrap a small child in a towel after a bath.

He’s carried downstairs and instead of being put on the floor as he’d expect, he’s settled on a seat under the peristylium outside the tablīnum. Master must have had one of the couches brought out from the atrium or somewhere, Ven thinks, even as Master settles down beside him, tucking Ven under his arm, against his side.

"If you’re feeling better, you can sleep in my room tonight, on your cot," Master says, lifting a spoon of soft-boiled egg to Ven’s mouth, neatly preventing him from making any sort of reply. "We’ll plug your bum again, too, I think. One of the small training plugs, though, as it’s been a week. Don’t expect me to make any demands on you for another week, apart from bringing you back to taking your normal plugs."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," Ven manages, and nuzzles into his master’s side. It’s nice out here, with the scent of roses and jasmine, and he’s grateful for the care.

He chews the next mouthful, freshly-baked bread dipped in olive oil, and looks up at his master’s face, somewhat anxiously. "Are you going in to work today, Master?" he asks, the anxiety making him forget to ask for permission before asking the question.

"Not today, pet. I’m working from home, you can stay in the tablīnum out of the way, or in my room."

"Mmm. The tablīnum, please, Master." He rather likes the study, but beyond that, he just wants to be close to his master today, even if he can’t actually serve in any meaningful capacity yet.

Breakfast is nice, though Ven can’t eat very much, and he’s soon installed on a couch in Master’s study, a plug in his arse reminding him that he hasn’t had anything there in a while. He has things to read, if he wants, but can’t concentrate on much and contents himself with just lying there, watching Master, and thinking of nothing very much at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
mens sāna in corpore sānō - (Title) A healthy mind in a healthy body  
Mare Nostrum - literally 'our sea', how the Romans referred to the Mediterranean  
medicus - doctor (abbreviated Ms in the world of 2770auc)  
concubīnus - male bed-slave, male concubine  
peristylium - the colonnade surrounding a courtyard garden or other outdoor space  
tablīnum - study


End file.
